


Butterfly Knives

by fountainkeds



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:56:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fountainkeds/pseuds/fountainkeds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Deimos reacts negatively in the cafeteria scene because he's got a creepy crush on Abel instead of Cain. </p>
<p> Deviates a little (a lot, probably) from the comic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Everything rightfully belongs to HamletMachine.

I don't know why he affected me. Why my breath hitched when I stared across the table at him and saw his silver eyes, nervous and shifty like a rabbit's. I noted the way he held his spoon, the way he stared down at nothing in particular, like he was afraid to stare at things directly. I thought to myself that I liked his hair, it was blacker than Cain's and didn't shine blue. It was matte like charcoal. He was awful quiet too. I'd been too distracted by Cain's brash nature to really notice but...he hadn't said a word since he sat down.

Then Cain started slurping his damn soup, from the bowl no less, and I lost my train of thought. He tended to do that. The liquid he was drinking looked like blood, opaque and Bordeaux red. I glanced at my apple and then back at his 'food'. Fighters sure had it different. I told him to use a spoon at least, but he never listens to a word that comes out of my mouth. I just kept staring at him, slurping the viscous liquid as if it was the nectar of the gods, trying to hide my disdain for his behavior as well as I could. After all, Ethos was sitting right there and given our recent conversation, appearances needed to be kept.

"You wanna try it?" Cain asked, noticing my stares.

Bastard. He knew I wouldn't let a substance like that near my mouth in my wildest dreams. No. No I didn't want to try that soup from hell. But I'm not going to refuse a challenge, not in front of your friend and not in front of Ethos.

"You wouldn't mind?"

Cain smiled smugly, shrugged and closed his eyes, as if he was doing me a favor. I gulped inaudibly as I picked up my spoon and dipped it in Cain's bowl, already dreading swallowing this slop. But oh well. Here goes.

"How's it taste, Princess?"

Ass.

"I like it…but it's a little salty." I said, using the same exact words used when he'd first asked me what his cum tasted like weeks ago. I feigned a surprised expression and dipped my spoon back in the bowl.

"Hey, don't eat it all. I'm still hungry!"

"Hahaha," I couldn't help but laugh because Cain looked genuinely upset and worried that I would eat all of his disgusting soup. That would show him to put me on the spot in front of others.

But then there was a resounding 'TCH' and my feelings of victory vanished. I looked across the table to our companions and frowned. The first sounds I heard out of his mouth were those of disapproval, and of course, directed at me. His face was turned away, staring at the piece of floor next to the table instead of under it.

"Myshonok!" Cain looked livid.

"Myshonok? Is that your name?" I asked, staring straight at the side of his face, willing and weirdly hoping that he'd look up at me. But he didn't.

"His name's Deimos."

Only after Cain said this did the man lift his head, but his eyes remained downturned. His expression still and calm like a robot's. He only responded when Cain spoke. It made me uncomfortable. Were they…together too?

"Why don't you let him talk?"

Cain sighed and returned his attention to his foul dinner.

"'Talking' isn't something he's good at."

'Always so flippant' I thought to myself. I looked back at this Deimos, not prepared to make eye contact with his striking stare, yet there he was. Eyes almost as round as an owl's, looking right back at me. He was…angry. I pretended I didn't notice. I still had the urge to talk to him, wanted to hear him say something, anything, directed at me. I was confused about this desire of mine for a moment, but I mentally chalked it up to my innate curiosity. Then I remembered something. A little thought that made its way to the forefront of my mind.

"If your task name is Deimos…then that means your Navigator is-"

"Hey!"

Right on fucking cue. Coming up behind Deimos was Phobos and Porthos, with expressions of disgust evident on their upturned faces.

"What the hell is this? How come you're at the navigator's table?" said Phobos, in that whiny voice of his.

I felt Cain stiffen next to me, saw Deimos begin to sweat. But this is Phobos, the same guy that cried the first week of basic and is reassigned every other week. I didn't get the deal.

"Why don't you sit someplace else?" I said, leaning over Cain's shoulder.

"Why don't you piss of, Abel?"

"Funny, I don't remember you being king of the mess hall."

"Do you have to be the center of the attention all the time? Sucking the commander's cock not working like it used to now that the stakes are a little higher, huh?"

I didn't dare break the eye contact with Phobos, determined to stand my ground and not back off. From the corner of my eye, I saw Deimos look at me. I couldn't decipher his expression, but something told me not to try. So I didn't and kept looking at Phobos, waiting for his resolve to break, for him to leave.

He shrugged his shoulders and put a hand on his hip, closing his eyes and casting his head to the side.

"Whatever!"

I win.

"Let's go, Deimos."

Oh, damn it. No.

The second Phobos grabbed Deimos' arm, Cain got up from his seat and looked about ready to kill someone. I'd only seen him like this once before, when I'd told him I'd volunteered us to go on the Sleipnir, and I'm pretty sure he'd almost killed me. Almost…

There was arguing then, both parties were exchanging angry words. However, I found myself only able to concentrate on Deimos' face. His mouth was open, but his surprised expression never reached his eyes. He was looking at Cain again. I didn't get it. And it pissed me off, somehow.

"Cain!" I yelled, probably a little more angry than I should have. I ripped my eyes away from the other fighter, trying to shake off his outline that still burned into my vision as if he was a sun glare. I just wanted this to end and go back to my room and sleep. I suddenly felt very drained.

He looked over his shoulder back at me, teeth clenched and bared, like a wild animal. I needed him to calm down, needed him to back off. 'Come on, just this once, do what I say…'

No such luck.

In the following seconds, Cain pulled back his arm and made a fist, and swung it so quickly that not even Porthos probably realized what had happened until he pulled his hand away from his face and saw bright crimson staining his fingers. Deimos got up and grabbed Cains arms and locked them behind his back. Ethos yelped and rose up, looking from Porthos' face to Cain then to me. Like I could do anything, as if I could have ever done anything.

Porthos now looked just as angry as Cain, but he didn't do anything. He just stood there, clenching his fists and trembling, rage so palpable I could almost feel it from where I was standing. His breathing was so loud, too, the guy looked like a damn white rhino ready to gore something.

"I…" he took a deep breath, the tremors subsiding "Will not lower myself to a fighter's position." His stance became more upright.

Cain spit at Porthos' feet, luckily still held back by Deimos, who was sweating profusely now.

"You're a real piece of work. Too bad Abel couldn't keep a proper leash. Now we'll have to report you." chuckled Phobos, taking a napkin from his pocket and handing it to Porthos. "I can't believe you forgot one of the most important rules, Cain. Fighters can't lay a hand on a navigator. Tsk tsk."

"Oh, I didn't forget, you piece of shit. So what, I'll fucking go to the brig for a couple of days. Well worth breaking your damn nose!"

I sighed, watching the navigator's retreating backs and suddenly painfully aware of all the stares directed at us from around the cafeteria.

"Abel…" I looked up at Cain, now free from Deimos and staring at me with a strange look on his face.

I shook my head. He'll be thrown in the brig for this. For not listening to me. For not letting me have a say, not even once. I couldn't bring myself to look at him anymore, couldn't bear the feeling of everyone's eyes on me. I could almost hear them whispering to each other about how weak I was, how little control I have over my fighter. This man that I've been letting myself be intimate with for weeks now, he saw me as little else but an insect. I shut my eyes, ignoring Cain. He'll have to go to Central Command now, and I certainly wasn't going to accompany him. Perhaps Deimos would go with him. After this little stint, I was almost positive there was something going on between the two.

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Ethos." I hastily made my exit, trying to keep myself from running. I made my way around the table, avoiding making any contact with Cain and quickly looked at Deimos, because there was nothing else to look at. Again, I couldn't figure out his expression. It never, ever reached his eyes.

"Gooodnight, Deimos."

"Goodnight."

It was strange, because I didn't realize he'd finally said anything until I was inside my room and in bed and found myself thinking about how little his voice matched his appearance. It was soft and full of undeciphered emotion.

***  
The next morning, I was actually relieved to find that Cain wasn't in bed next to me. So, they did send him to the brig after all. Encke had warned him…

"Ugh." I couldn't think about that right now, not this early. Not when there were more important things to worry about. Like, what the hell am I going to do without a fighter for the next couple of days? Fucking Cain.

I showered, wrapped myself in a clean towel, and was reviewing my schedule on my tablet when there was a chime at my room door. It was probably Ethos, coming to check up on me after yesterday. Poor guy, he shouldn't have been drug into that. He had come asking me for advice on handling his fighter, and had seen plainly that I didn't know how either.

I readjusted my towel and opened the door.

"Hey Eth-Oh."

It wasn't Ethos. Standing in front of me, fighter suit shining in the fluorescent hall lighting, was Deimos.

"Oh, uhm, hello." I subconsciously grabbed at my towel, as if making sure it was still there.

He just stood there, looking over my shoulder into my room, eyes all grey and far away looking.

"You, uh, want to come in?"

He nodded and stepped in, slipping around me and standing in front of the two beds Cain had pushed together. His lips formed a frown.

"Oh, Cain did that," I said hastily, noticing what he was looking at. "I didn't think it was a good idea…"

His frown deepened.

"I'm your battle simulator partner until Cain gets out."

My eyes must have widened a bit, because Deimos smirked. I couldn't help it though, I was shocked at both what he said and him speaking. And that voice.

"Oh, ok, I'm glad that the commanders were thinking ahead before they put Cain away-"

"No. Commanders didn't send me."

"Oh…" I looked away from his expressionless eyes then. Cain.

"That's fine. Don't worry about it. I'll practice on my own."

I heard him step closer to me. He inhaled sharply, "No. Cain told me not to give you a choice in the matter."

"Of course he did." I laughed humorlessly. I continued staring at the corner of the chest on the other side of the room. Always under his control. Now he has his friend (or was it fuck buddy number 2?) who makes me feel so oddly uncomfortable looking after me. Like I'm fucking property. I subconsciously lifted my hand to my lips and thumbed my scar. Property.

I looked up at him, a lot closer than he was before. I could tell he hadn't been staring at my eyes, I caught them lifting to meet my gaze but I couldn't tell what he'd been staring at.

"Give me a moment. I need to get dressed and I'll meet you outside."

Deimos nodded, and left the room in silence.


	2. Manners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything belongs to HamletMachine :)

Growing up, I was told I was good at being polite. Too good. In fact, my mother would sometimes scold me for beginning all my sentences with 'pardon'. She'd yell at me for apologizing too much over little things, unimportant things, like not having polished my shoes or having wrinkled sleeves from bending and unbending my arms . She'd remind me that I didn't have to shake hands with people if they weren't someone of importance. I didn't have to bow down to everyone, just my father's stuffy politician friends. And most of all, if I didn't like someone, I didn't have to pretend to. My mother always made that very clear. She'd see me struggle with the other kids, see me smile weakly with just my mouth as bigger boys would push me into walls and crack my tablets. My father had forbid her from interfering, something about toughening me up, so all she could do was tell me to stop being so polite. That's all she could ever do.

So I listened to her.

"I'm not going to be running sims with you today." I said, careful to keep my stance steady and posture erect, just like she'd taught me all those years ago.

"Hm."

Deimos smiled faintly, standing in the doorway with his head cocked slightly to the side. It was our fifth day of being paired up for battle simulations, and I was pretty sure it was even more mentally destabilizing than being paired with Cain. He never spoke to me again after our first day. He hardly looked at me for that matter, unless I was the one speaking to him. I'd always wait for a response, but none ever came save for a shrug of the shoulders or a shake of the head.

"Yes. Hm. So, uh, I guess I'll just get back to my configur-"

"No."

"No?"

"No. You're coming to the simulator."

"Well, like I said, I've decided I'm not going to."

"You don't make the decisions."

"Pardon?"

"You," he stepped closer to me, eyes suddenly looking more pale and sinister within the dimness of my room, "don't make the decisions." He was now inside, clicking the button next to the door and sliding it shut, leaving everything much darker now than it was before. I felt cold, wrong. Like a chill running up my spine and to my fingertips, a sense of foreboding fell upon me and I felt my skin prickle like it was being stuck with pins. And those eyes, still expressionless and set within an unreadable face that was so dusky it looked gray in the starlight, looked at me too deeply.

This just won't do.

"Listen here, you might be one of Cain's goons but I'm his navigator. He can't be making executive decisions for me while he's locked away, and he certainly can't threaten me." I meant to sound strong. "It's not my fault he decided to punch Porthos in the damn face after I tried to call him back." I meant to stand up straight, straight enough to be the same height as Deimos. 

"I...I..." But my legs felt like jelly and I found myself leaning away from him, shriveling like a dying flower or injured animal. I felt my back hit the chest, felt trapped and no longer sure where this conversation was supposed to go or end.

"Shhhh," he placed a finger to my lips. It was like ice and I shivered and he noticed.

I shut my eyes, feeling his fingertip trace my scar, so light and cold like a ghost was there instead of a human. It lingered there, until I felt it lift entirely.

"I don't want to hurt you. Cain said I should, if you were difficult. So don't be difficult. Things we don't want to happen won't."

"What…what are your problems? Both of you are insane." I opened my eyes and stared at him dead on, ignoring another wave of the pins and needles sensation he gave me. I wish I hadn't.

"He said you're not like the other navigators. You're naive and think you can handle everything on your own when you definitely can't. You live in a fantasy world where everything works in conjunction instead of clashing." He pressed his palm against my cheek, and shock immobilized me. This man I'd maybe shared a total of 5 minutes of dialogue with was suddenly touching my face and saying the most peculiar things. "He always talks about you, always."

I didn't say anything, I just kept staring into his eyes, looking, maybe wishing, I'd see something there.  
He dropped his hands to his sides.

"He doesn't want his little princess out of sight." It was the first time I heard anything besides vague interest in his voice. He sounded bitter. But his faint smile was still there, still playing at the edges of his full lips like a frame. He reached behind me and I flinched but he just wanted to open the chest.

"Get dressed. Meet me at the lifts."

He backed away from me and exited the room. I stood there for a minute or two until it sunk in that I had no choice but to be polite and do as Deimos said.

***  
My skin felt hot for the rest of the day. I couldn't look at Deimos throughout our training, but found myself inexplicably getting the urge to glance in his direction every time I felt his stare on my back. I knew he was staring. He was staring when I took off my helmet after we trained for 2 hours, when I unhooked myself from the machine and walked out of the simulator room. His eyes were on me, I could feel them. But I never reciprocated. Because he didn't speak to me when I wanted him to. Because he's probably fucking Cain. Because his touch is colder than his stare. Because he made me uncomfortable and my mother told me I shouldn't pay attention to those I don't like.

Because I don't like Deimos.  
Because people who affect me are never good people.


End file.
